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Ari’s fingers dug into my waist. My head spun in a wave of lust and love. Our chests smashed together, I started to rock in time to the beat of his rapid heart. With his shoulders as an anchor, I circled my hips over his thighs. Ari growled from deep in his chest and took control of my waist. He lifted me, then found a way to go even deeper when he pumped into me again.

Our movements challenged the other, as if locked in a battle to be more vicious, more commanding, more desperate. Where Ari thrust, I scratched. Where his teeth scraped my skin, I rocked wildly.

Ari’s hands roved over all of me—my drenched core, my spine, my breasts—as if he couldn’t find which spot was his favorite.

Ari,” I gasped. “Ari, I’m, oh gods—”

Pleasure danced from my head, down my spine, pooling between my thighs until I cried out a string of incoherent words. He drowned them out with a harsh kiss. His tongue attacked mine. Ari claimed me as he drove deeper into me until he winced through the rush of addictive heat and I felt his length twitch, then his arms and thighs, until Ari was clinging to me like he’d split apart without me.

I collapsed against his chest. His tender hands stroked the scars on my back.

“You’re my beautiful destruction, Saga,” he whispered. “I will go mad trying to keep you safe, yet I will never stop fighting for you. Even when I know he is dead, I will always fight every day for your happiness. You’ve become my obsession. That is how you are the sweetest menace.”

I kissed him sweetly. To be the one he called his menace was the sweetest word in the whole of the kingdoms.

Chapter46

The Golden King

Eryka meantwhat she said about taking vows with Gunnar the instant they could.

A week after the battle ended at the Court of Stars, the Borough had been cleaned from the blood and refuse of the decaying fae Davorin had corrupted. Once again, the Court of Hearts was the whimsical fae setting with flowering willows and the trickle of the gentle creek through stones coated in blue moss.

Not a hint of Davorin’s presence; I’d seen to it.

The docks from the Court of Hearts to the Bridge Isles were packed with longships from the East and North. Cottages in the blood court were packed with visiting nobles, smugglers, and thieves. In the Court of Hearts, every longhouse in the fort was occupied by royalty and, again, thieves and smugglers.

In the Borough courtyard, benches were tied in silver ribbons and lavender satins. Lilac archways were positioned near the front. Mingled throughout the whimsy of the South was a bit of the North and East. Hanging from branches were dangling bones and rune chips, sacrifices of prosperity and happiness, as was tradition in Etta. Their vows would given with Eastern Alver traditions, although Eryka was not an Alver, she wanted the double vow both a couple made and Alver folk.

The front benches were filled with Gunnar’s large family. Princess Herja and Hagen sat nearest the archway with their other littles, both Laila and Metta donned flower crowns, and the young Dain wore a fine tunic hemmed in silver.

The next bench held Lilianna and Arvad. The former king and queen had spoken to me in depth about our differing experiences with sleep. In a fury sleep, it truly was a sleep. They remembered little of it, while I’d been jostled about the past. Elise and Valen sat next to them, the tiny Princess Livia asleep in the crook of Valen’s arm.

I wasn’t certain who adored the tiny fae royal more, me or Saga. This was one of the few times Valen and Elise had claim over their daughter. The rest of us kept taking her.

Saga sat beside Tor and laughed when Aleksi, the toddling young prince, made a grab for the black raven circlet in her hair. Sol took up a place beside Calista.

Gorm had fashioned a dainty silver circlet of sunbeams for Calista. Today was the first—and likely only—time she’d worn it.

“Only for the thieving prince,” she’d grumbled when Elise helped her braid the piece in her hair. “And just because he makes me laugh.”

Calista snickered at something Sol said on the bench. Since the Sun Prince arrived, the storyteller had rarely left his side. Sol didn’t seem to mind, and slipped into a brotherly role for the girl after learning the truth of Stefan, and what it all meant for Calista.

I’d overheard muttering more than once in the great hall of the Borough long after others went to sleep, only to look down from the upper room and see Calista and Sol sipping from horns, talking in low voices. Sometimes, Calista would wipe her eyes, and Sol would embrace her, or take her hand.

I didn’t care what they said to each other, so long as she was beginning to believe she wasn’t alone in this world.

“You look happy, King Ari.”

I turned around.

Eryka beamed. Her hair had been set in long, pale curls over her shoulders, and her lips were painted a soft red. She’d been dressed in a skirt the shade of vibrant river moss, and the points of her ears were pierced in silver rings.

I pressed a hand to my chest and bowed. “Princess, you are lovelier than the stars.”

“I don’t mind much how I look, so long as you get me there.” She leaned in close and whispered. “I’m most anxious to be alone with my love. Not that I don’t enjoy you all.”

“Princess, I felt much the same the day I took vows.” I left out the part where Saga shifted into a raven and I nearly died from the shock. I held out one beringed hand. The center ring made of polished wood was my most cherished. “Shall we?”

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